Bear Creek
by Bookjunk
Summary: Post-season 7 AU. After Purgatory, the Winchesters and Castiel went their separate ways. It seemed to be going well. It wasn't.
1. Hard way home

**Chapter 1: Hard way home **

_I wish I could find a soul to steal_

'Where are we going?'

It took a long time for Dean to respond to Sam's question. Dean didn't understand why. Obviously, he didn't know where they were going; Sam knew that. But it wasn't really that. Sam was pushing for something and Dean was too tired to get into it.

The headlights illuminated the wet and deserted highway. Dean was driving; his brother was in the backseat. Sam was supposed to be trying to sleep, but instead he was annoying Dean with stupid questions neither of them knew the answer to.

'I don't know, Sam. In the opposite direction of where we should be going. Away. Just… away.'

They were done. They'd left everything behind. Their duty and apocalypses and all that shit. Everything and nothing. But not really, Dean thought. His hands were firm on the wheel and his foot was on the gas. He was sure they had done the right thing. He was sure.

'Maybe you should drive. You're not sleeping anyway,' he suggested. In the rearview mirror, he watched Sam unfold.

'Even if I fitted back here, I don't like sleeping in the car,' Sam whined. They stopped and switched seats. It felt weird to have Sam driving. It made sense, though. Dean kind of thought that if it was up to him, they would be driving back the way they had come.

Since he wasn't as freakishly tall as his brother, Dean had no trouble curling up in the backseat. It took a little time, but he got in a comfortable position in the end. Also, he'd never had any trouble sleeping in the Impala. He liked the sounds the car made. It was ridiculous how much he had missed his baby. He breathed in the smell of the leather seats. The lights flashing past and the feeling of the miles of road passing underneath; it was all familiar. Leave it to Sam to bitch about the one thing left that felt like home.

'What are we going to do?'

Sam again, with the refusing to sleep and not letting him sleep either. Groaning, Dean sat up straight. It was a nice distraction. Once he started to think about it, he quickly changed his mind. It was like asking what you want to be when you grow up. At least Sam had an idea about that. Dean didn't. He'd never had. He hadn't gotten further than demon hunter. Stupidly, he had completely brushed aside the glaring fact that it wasn't exactly a long term career.

Guess he had been wrong about that too.

'I want to fake my death.'

Sam glanced at him. Weirded out at first and then more of a glare.

'Be serious,' he implored.

'What? That's a thing!' Dean protested. It was. Everyone was doing it nowadays. Of course, they wouldn't be able to get away with it, because no one would buy it for a second. Dean was all for believing, but even he didn't have that much faith in luck. Also, there were certain people that Dean didn't want to fool. Friends in high places.

'You still want to be a lawyer?'

'Maybe. I don't know. Hey, we could live in Michigan. I hear the trees are the right height there.'

It was funny in a dorky kinda way and Sam obviously didn't know whether he got the joke, so Dean cracked a smile.

'You've been sitting on that one for a while, haven't you?'

'Yeah,' Sam admitted, grinning.

Dean shuffled back into a lying position. A silence fell. He closed his eyes and allowed his mind to wander. This proved less effective for falling asleep than he'd hoped it would. He remembered souls lurking in the darkness.

He thought about all the decisions that had led to that moment and he couldn't think of one good one he had made over the last year. There must have been good ones, because bad ones got you killed and he was alive and Sam was alive. Yeah, other people had gotten killed, but if all his decisions had been bad, a lot more people should have died.

So, he tried a little harder, but for the life of him Dean couldn't conjure up one single time when he'd arrived at a sensible, normal choice. What they were doing now wasn't even rational. Walking away from it all. Damn destiny was just going to find them. It always did.

Turning onto his side, he could feel that Sam was about to say something, but he willed his brother to keep his opinions to himself. Shut up, shut up, shut up, he thought and it seemed to help, because Sam only sighed.

After another five minutes of silence, Dean gave up on getting some sleep. He was just wrecking his mind with thoughts of Purgatory. Red eyes. Growling. He remembered how fucking frightened he had been. He remembered thinking that it was something as fucked up as fate that had brought the two of them there. Even now, he couldn't shake the lingering suspicion that he was supposed to be there instead of in the backseat of a car going nowhere. But, most of all, he remembered turning around and being alone.

(***)

Author's note: Story title, chapter titles and snippets of lyrics are from Brandi Carlile's wonderful new album _Bear Creek_.


	2. Raise hell

**Chapter 2: Raise hell**

_Eyes of bright clear blue_

With open eyes, Dean slipped into a memory. It wasn't a pleasant one. Not Purgatory or Hell, but close. It was their last conversation. Mere hours ago and Dean couldn't get out of his head how cold he had been and how confused Castiel had been.

The angel had been his usual self. All 'I don't understand' and 'Dean?' in that gravelly voice of his. But that hadn't been the worst. Fuck no. The worst thing had been the look in his eyes. Untethered. That look would probably haunt Dean for the rest of his life.

'Can't sleep? Aw, you miss your boyfriend.'

'Don't start with me, Sam.'

'You want him in the driver's seat. Not me.'

'He can't drive.'

Without looking up, Dean could see Sam shaking his head at this display of willful ignorance.

'What are you doing?' Sam asked, adding, _helpfully_, 'If you call him, he will come.'

The suggestion was met with silence.

'Why not?' Sam prodded.

Silence again. The Impala was practically aglow with trademark Winchester defiance as Dean stubbornly remained mute and Sam shrugged and announced that he was going to call him then. Dean scrambled into a sitting position.

'No, you're not,' he hissed.

'If you don't call him, I will,' his brother threatened. Dean glowered at him by way of the rear view mirror. He could feel himself losing his cool.

'Nobody's calling anybody. Shut up and drive,' Dean ordered. There was a beat, like a heartbeat, but more drawn out, wherein Dean believed that Sam was going to listen. Naturally, that didn't happen, because Sam wasn't a soldier and Sam didn't follow orders and Sam was fucking aggravating.

'Admit that you want him here instead of me and I'll shut up,' Sam promised. Dean almost laughed.

'No.'

The car screeched to a halt. Dean flopped against the driver's seat and fell back against the backseat with a curse. Sam turned around in his seat in full bitch face mode. Pursed lips, flaring nostrils, furious eyes.

'Until you do, we're not going anywhere,' he said. He seemed determined. As if that settled it. Too caught up in his own righteous indignation, Sam failed to notice that he'd pushed his brother too far. Struggling with the handle, fumbling in his haste, Dean managed to get out of the Impala. He pulled on the door on the driver's side with too much force. The door swung open and made a noise that it wasn't supposed to make that made Dean even angrier.

'Get out. Get out of the damn car,' he yelled. Sam moved, but not fast enough, so Dean yanked his brother out. The younger Winchester stumbled, trying to regain his balance. Dean got behind the wheel and slammed the door shut. He took a few quick breaths before lowering the window and telling his brother in no uncertain terms to get into the car.

'I swear to God: if you don't get in right now, I'm leaving you here.'

'Why won't you...?'

'He left me in Purgatory,' Dean explained. He was fed up with the subject, as if they'd discussed this a million times before, even though they hadn't. Sam frowned.

'He came back for you, didn't he?'

That's what Dean kept telling himself too, but it didn't make it any better. It didn't change that awful feeling the moment he'd been alone. Patiently, he tried to explain. Not how he felt, but how someone else might have felt in a wildly different situation. Because distance was good.

'As if that makes it okay. That's like leaving a five year old at the mall and expecting him to be grateful when you finally remember to pick him up,' Dean scoffed. Scared; that's what I'm going for, Dean thought. And then, kill me now.

'Great metaphor. Except you're acting more like a baby. It's so like you to hold a grudge, by the way,' Sam countered.

'Really? Lilith, anyone?'

They could have gone on like that for ages. Back and forth. On and on and on, until they were both sick of it. They knew their lines by heart.

_She sent you to hell, Dean! I sent myself there, Sam. That wasn't your call to make, Dean._

Luckily, Sam received the demon's name like a slap in the face. He actually staggered back as though he'd been hit and exhaled sharply, a reaction more appropriate after a punch in the gut. Well, it had been a low blow. Deflated, Sam leaned against the car.

'I kind of hate you, Dean.'

'Right back at you. Get in.'

To Dean's immeasurable relief, Sam nodded and rounded the car. He opened the passenger door and started to ease into the car. Halfway in, he paused. What the hell now, Dean thought. Tired, he rubbed his eyes.

'Wait,' Sam whispered. His words tumbled out in a rush, puzzled and earnest.

'I didn't say who I meant, didn't name him, but you knew.'

Dean replayed their fight in his head and realised that it was true. No mention of anything specific and he had known anyway. Mortified, he watched as Sam also realised that it was true. The brothers swallowed nervously. Sam got all dewy-eyed, which made Dean groan. He braced himself for some more crap. Honestly, Dean didn't think he'd be able to stand it. He was right.

'Why don't you just call him?' Sam suggested, softly. He suddenly sounded very understanding. His sincerity was grating. The stupid thing was that if Dean had told him the truth then Sam would probably have dropped it, but Dean couldn't tell him. He couldn't tell Sam that he didn't want to talk about it because it hurt. So, he was stuck with Sam's puppy dog eyes.

'Fuck you,' Dean said, low and dangerous. It didn't take much. A slight push to unbalance him and Sam was out of the car, sprawled on the tarmac. Dean felt guilty about it, but only much later when it was too late to go back. He still turned around, of course, but Sam was gone.


	3. Save part of yourself

**Chapter 3: Save part of yourself**

_I hope you caught up with your dreams_

'Time is fluid.'

Castiel remembered saying that to Dean once. Well, time had felt very linear for the last three years. He eyed the house and waited.

Light skimmed the horizon. Castiel averted his gaze from the house and stared at the sky. The sky seemed to stare straight back at him. A million twinkling eyes. He had noticed this habit of anthropomorphising trees, chipmunks, lamps. It was most likely a by-product of his non-corporeality.

There was no body; only memories. I shouldn't have come, he thought. I should leave right now, he told himself. He stayed.

Dean had said a number of things too. The last time they'd seen each other Dean had been brutally honest.

'The way I feel... I'm not even mad.'

'Don't look at me. Look at your feet.'

'I'm done. We're quitting. Sam and me. _Feet_.'

And then silence, except for that thing that Sam had said which seemed to be part joke and part accusation.

'Friends don't leave friends in Purgatory.'

(***)

Opening the back door, Dean lost half his morning coffee.

'Son of a bitch,' he muttered, watching as the boards soaked up the liquid. That would leave a stain. Whatever. He turned to watch the sunrise. It involved a lot of squinting. Lauren followed him out and hugged him from behind.

It was kind of nice, because it was cold and he was too much of a man to go back inside to put on something warmer. So, a shirt and Lauren to keep him warm. He sipped what was left of his coffee and sighed. This whole domesticity experiment wasn't half bad.

Dean straightened up. He had the strangest feeling. There was something out there.

(***)_  
_

It wasn't a glitch. Castiel was little more than a thought. A soul floating around, maybe. Nobody could see him. Yet, Dean so plainly chose to stare at the spot that Castiel was currently not occupying that it was eerie. Castiel felt like holding his breath, knowing how ridiculous that was. He had no body and thus no breath to hold.

The woman said something. Dean frowned, but smiled and shrugged. He looked peaceful and so very much like he belonged right there on that porch with her arms around him.

Love. The word came to Castiel unbidden. Dean had found love. The sight of Dean with the woman opened up something inside of Castiel. Something that had always been Dean's. Something useless. Something that hurt. He left immediately. He wished he'd not come.

(***)

'Honey?'

Dean grimaced at the term of endearment. Lauren was breaking the rules. They'd agreed not to be nauseating about their relationship, so no 'darling' and cutesy shit like that. He looked at the same spot, but whatever had been there was gone. Dean turned around and saw Lauren patting her stomach.

'What are you doing?'

The expression on her face couldn't exactly be called happy. Fuck.

'I'm pregnant.'

Castiel, Dean suddenly realised. It had been Castiel. He leaned against the porch railing as if his life depended on it. Castiel had just been right there and Dean had let him disappear to parts unknown. Trying to breathe evenly, Dean observed how his heart raced. Lauren cautiously approached him, a worried frown creasing her forehead.

'You're being weird. Why are you being weird? Are you... Are you having a panic attack?' she asked. Dean shook his head, ignoring the tightness in his chest and the rising feel of something that was definitely not panic.

'Nothing's wrong,' he choked out. She didn't even dignify that with a response. Just called him on his crap with one of those 'oh, really?' looks of hers that he usually liked.

'Yeah, okay. I don't know. It's nothing. I'm feeling kind of...'

Stupid? Awful? So many things applied. Mostly like a grade A moron. How could he have allowed Cas to vanish without at least trying to talk to him? That was possibly the dumbest thing he'd ever done. Dean was starting to sweat now too and, oh God, Lauren was pregnant. Icing on the cake.

'Try to slow down your breathing. If it's a panic attack...' Lauren suggested. She was attempting to be helpful and in the process she was coming much too close.

'Stop saying that. I'm fine.'

He wasn't even on the same fucking planet as fine and they both knew it, but there was no way in hell that Dean was going to tell Lauren that. Still, he needed to talk to someone. He needed to talk to Sam. Pity that his brother was more than two thousand miles away.

Fake. The word popped into his mind. Not Castiel; Castiel had definitely been there. His life was fake. He was playing at being a civilian. At being normal. And fuck if it wasn't exactly like the hollow dream with the jinn. Beware of what you wish for and all that crap. A dozen states between Sam and him instead of the distance in the wish, but other than that it was basically the same.

Lauren was a therapist instead of a nurse. Instead of working at a garage, Dean owned a garage. His mother was still dead.

Yeah, this was like a bad dream, except with real people.


	4. That wasn't me

**Chapter 4: That wasn't me**

_You'll fall all the way to the bottom and land on your own knife_

Dean had been doing some thinking and some drinking. Ha, that rhymed. He had come to the conclusion that it wasn't just similar to the jinn thing; it was also like the time with Lisa. It never worked out. He still hadn't learned his lesson.

He felt queasy. That was the alcohol or maybe the altitude. Not looking out of the window, Dean imagined how a conversation with Sam would go. It turned out far more detailed – and bitchy – than he intended, but it was a good distraction.

'To what do I owe the pleasure?'

Implied: you never call or visit unless you want something. Even imaginary Sam is wary of Dean.

'Let me guess: apocalypse you can't outrun?'

Spoken by Sam again in a supremely pissy tone.

'Hey! I resent that.'

'Well, deal.'

'I saw Castiel. I think I did, anyway. I didn't really see him so much as... felt him. Knew he was there, you know. Does that make sense?' Dean would say. Good thing that this was never going to happen, because Dean couldn't picture himself saying that. He really couldn't. It was honest and the sort of talk he couldn't have with Sam anymore. Not since the night they'd split. Now Sam was unwilling to discuss... _anything_ with him, really.

Imaginary Sam leans forward and starts firing questions at him.

'What does this mean? What did he say? What did you say?'

'We didn't really talk.'

'Seriously?'

The look on imaginary Sam's face says it all. Dean's an idiot.

'What should I do? I don't know where he went,' Dean would say and Sam would know the answer. But imaginary Sam refuses to play by the rules and just stares at him.

'What do you want from me, Dean? Because I don't know anything.'

Well, that is unexpected.

'Aren't you supposed to know some shit seeing as how you're almost a lawyer?'

'I'm never going to be a lawyer.'

'You _are_.'

'No, I'm not.'

And how hilarious is that? Imaginary Sam knows about as much about who he is as Dean, which is to say; nothing at all. That actually makes sense, since imaginary Sam is, you know, _imaginary_. Imaginary Sam smiles wryly in exactly the sort of way real Sam would smile. It drives Dean crazy. It's a mocking boy-are-you-clueless smile with a dash of pity.

'What the hell are you talking about? For fuck's sake, Sam. I want your help. I don't want to hear about some bullshit existential crisis you're having.'

'You want my opinion? You're an asshole. You haven't even stopped hunting.'

Real Sam wouldn't say that, simply because Sam doesn't know that Dean still hunts. Imaginary Sam seems really mad about it, though. Dean scoffs.

'Is this where you tell me you can take the hunter out of the hunt, but you can't take the hunt out of the hunter or something equally stupid? What does any of this have to do with Castiel?'

'Last time we talked about Castiel and we know how_ that_ ended, I tried to point out that you were throwing an epic hissy fit over being left in Purgatory.'

'I did not.'

'Yeah, whatever. Remember what I told Jimmy Novak?'

'You can never go home. It will never be over. Real uplifting stuff.'

'Well...'

Fuck. Unable to accept that particular truth, Dean fires back.

'Since you seem to know everything, answer me this then. Why did you agree to quit? You didn't even argue. You _love_ to argue!'

'Look, Dean, I could see that you were serious. And we stick together.'

'We stick together, huh? You must have been pretty damn disappointed when I fucked off to Washington. Sam, about the thing with the car? I went back for you, you know.'

Sam ignores that. Dean thinks that maybe he already knew, which – again – _of course_: imaginary Sam is basically Dean. As Sam starts to speculate out loud, he smiles that maddening smile again.

'So, Cas is back and you're thinking apocalypse...'

(***)

Through the glass door, Dean looked at his brother. Real Sam in a real office in a real law school in real New York. This was almost as weird as making up an imaginary Sam to talk to. This was his chance to have an honest conversation with Sam, if only Dean would finally tell him about what had happened in Purgatory. That would go a long way towards restoring their relationship.

Sam swivelled in his chair and saw him. Frowning, he beckoned Dean in. They eyed each other. Sam was wearing a suit. And it isn't a disguise, Dean reminded himself. Dean took a six pack out of a flimsy plastic bag. Sam, no longer frowning, closed the door and lowered the blinds.

Silence.

Sam budged, because he always gave in first. He accepted a bottle and screwed of the top.

'I'm surprised that you managed to find a parking space for the Impala. It's mayhem out there,' he noted.

'I didn't drive. I, uh, I flew,' Dean clarified.

'Ha. Yeah, sure. Good one,' Sam chuckled until realisation set in. 'You _flew_?'

'That's what I said.'

'Whoa. Is everything alright? How's Lauren?'

'She's fine. I mean, she's pregnant,' Dean admitted, wincing. This was not going like he had imagined it, _at all_. He didn't want to discuss Lauren. Sam stayed silent for a long time before responding.

'Those two aren't mutually exclusive, you know. That could be great. In fact, it should be great. Is that why you came?'

Dean shook his head. Sam waited, before impatiently prompting him.

'Come on, I haven't got all day. They expect me to do some actual work around here.'

So, Dean just came out with it.

'Castiel's back.'

Sam made a face, leaned back and uttered exactly one word.

'No.'

'No? No, what?' Dean sputtered, confused and starting to get angry.

'No, I'm not getting involved.'

'Why not?'

'Cause I've learned my lesson. I'm not touching anything involving Castiel with a ten-foot pole.'

Dean considered that and thought about apologising for leaving Sam at the side of the road, but he'd done that about a million times already and it didn't change anything. Dean wasn't especially eager to dive into this either, but Castiel was back. That must mean something. Something disturbing probably.

'It's gotta be bad, right? Why else would he be here?' Dean asked. Sam smiled. It was the exact same fucking smile his imaginary version had sported a few hours ago, only a bit more on the cruel side.

'You can't think of a reason he'd want to see you short of an impending apocalypse? That's just sad. Maybe it was a little harder for him to forget about your profound bond than it was for you.'

Definitely incensed now, Dean got to his feet. For a few seconds, he felt like making a scene that would get Sam expelled, but even Dean wasn't that big a dick. Instead, he exacted his revenge in a pettier and altogether more hurtful way.

'You know, Sam, that invitation you got for my birthday?'

'Yeah?'

'Consider yourself uninvited.'

(***)

There was no way Dean was going to fly back, so he stole a car. He justified it by telling himself that old habits die hard. His cell nearly escaped the front pocket of his shirt when Lauren called. I'm going to have to talk to her eventually, he thought while taking the call. Still, it might have been better to wait.

'Dean? Is that you?'

'Yeah. Look, Lauren...'

'What the fuck do you think you're doing? Where are you? Where have you been?'

'I don't know what you mean. I left a note.'

Lauren laughed. This was bad. Really bad.

'Do you really expect me to believe you're on a _hunting trip_ with your brother? And, no, I don't want to call him to verify. I bet Sam will cover for you: he always does. I cannot believe you're doing this now. I tell you I'm pregnant and you almost flee the country.'

'It has nothing to do with...'

'Oh, that's even better! Apparently the pregnancy is completely insignificant then? Has nothing to do with you?'

'Of course it does, Lauren.'

'Is that so? Well, I just wanted you to know that I'm going to have an abortion.'

And then she hung up. Dean pulled over and called her back, but she didn't answer her phone. He tried again and again to no avail. Well on his way to losing it, Dean cranked open the car window to get some air. That's when he heard the sirens. He thought, stupidly, that they were in his head. Like, some sort of inner alarm to warn him that he was fucking up his life. Not that he needed that.

Sitting there, while it sank in that the sirens were for him, Dean thought about Purgatory. Pure. Undiluted. Distilled. Your motives and lies became crystal clear there. Only the primary emotions counted. You felt what you felt and nothing else.

Turned out Dean loved Castiel, which... okay. He had kind of known that for a while by then. He was weirdly fine with that. Loving Castiel wasn't the real kicker. He also wanted Castiel. As in _wanted_ him. This was an entirely separate emotion too. It was in Purgatory that Dean had realised for the first time that even if he didn't love Castiel, he'd still want him.

As the car was surrounded, Dean thought about his one phone call and how he somehow, all in the space of one day, had alienated practically everyone who might have bailed him out.

At least the cops were nice. They didn't shoot him. That was nice. One of them was a comedian, which was not so nice.

'Next time think about stealing a Ford Pinto, son. Less conspicuous.'


End file.
